Isolation

My footsteps were the only ones that could be heard. Every step of my feet colliding with the ground sounded way more prominent than it used to sound. Every step was a crunch on the hard cement. You could even hear the force of it shudder through my leg. The world around me was eerie, desolate, deserted, as though the thought of anyone even uttering a word or inhaling a breath is a strange thing to even imagine now. Every breath of my own put me on edge, and gave me a huge knot in my stomach. My mind is on edge, everything is so still. Phone and internet connection was lost ages ago. Some electricity surges through the purposeless street lamps on occasion, but is gone before I care to notice. I look over the empty city, and I see no homes, just houses. I am completely, utterly and entirely, alone.
I've searched for what seems like an eternity for someone else that could possibly be left, but I know for certain that I'm the only one left in this country now. I've walked so much my legs have collapsed under me. I've gone so long without food that I've been fearful for my health more than once, and I've even been doubtful of my mental health more times than I'd like to admit. The same questions reel through my mind like a broken record. How do I know I'm truly the last person left? Why is it me? What is the point of living when I merely just exist? What is life's true worth when you're alone? Those thoughts haunt me every second of my existence, especially when I'm most vulnerable before I try slip into my dreams. But after the months that have passed, the dreams have faded. Nightmares took over, but now even those have gone. My dreams are like the world I'm living in – empty. It's not so bad though, the times that were hardest to deal with were those when I dreamt of old memories, most of them of my family, their warmth and their voices filling the air. When I look back now, I wish I could have appreciated the little things like a laugh or a breath of someone other than my own. Waking up after dreams like that always filled me with the most excruciating feeling of disappointment, like waking up every morning was a curse. It is a curse. But now I've grown numb. Numb with no hope. What's the point in laughing when nobody can hear you? What's the point in breathing when there is no hope for you anyway?
A gush of wind surged up and greeted me, the only comfort I've had over the eternity of emptiness in this hell. I look to the sky, its clouds a shade of sepia as the sun dies for the day. Sunsets were always so magnificent when you had someone else to marvel at them with, it was though the sky and the brilliant rich shades of warm colours didn't bother to glow for an empty earth. There weren't even any birds that soared through the sky, free and careless. They were all gone. All animals were long gone. I look over the city, its brassy tones bland in the setting sun. I prospect of utter darkness as it hit night time didn't really surprise me anymore, no more lights to keep the earth alive. Nothing.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in, drawing out a long exhale. A weak smile on my face broke at the corner of my mouth. The beat of my heart was the only sound I could hear. Then, finally, I had an answer to the endless sentence circling through my head. What is the point of living when I merely just exist? There isn't.
I took a step forward into nothingness, and fell through the empty air with bliss.